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The key band in hardcore punk\u2019s mutation into alternative rock, H\u00fcsker D\u00fc lit a fire in all-comers before drugs, jealousy and major labels joined to topple them. It\u2019s a final, unbearable irony that a revelatory release of their exciting early music in 2017 should’ve coincided with the untimely death of their drummer, co-singer and romantic core: Grant Hart.<\/p>\n
[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”credit-main” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”||||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_orientation=”center” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n
Words by Keith Cameron<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/GettyImages-601354786-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Husker Du” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Everything Falls Apart: (l-r) Bob Mould,<\/span>\u00a0Grant Hart and Greg Norton of <\/span>H\u00fcsker D\u00fc, Chicago, 1985.\u00a0<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Early in the evening of March 14, 1986, Grant Hart walked up to the older woman on reception at Edinburgh University\u2019s Potterrow Student Union and smiled his sweetest smile. \u201cExcuse me ma\u2019am,\u201d he said, \u201cbut could you tell me where the rest-room is?\u201d <\/p>\n Unfamiliar with American vernacular for the loo, the woman was puzzled. \u201cWell,\u201d she eventually offered, \u201cthere is a room upstairs that has a couch in it. You could probably go up there if you need to take a rest.\u201d<\/p>\n H\u00fcsker D\u00fc didn\u2019t really \u2018do\u2019 rest. In 1985, Grant Hart and his bandmates Bob Mould and Greg Norton played a hundred gigs. The year before that, a mere 90. In the four years beginning January 1982, the trio from Minnesota made six albums, one of them a double: Zen Arcade, the record which exploded the artistic para-meters for hardcore punk in particular and underground music in general, pointing a way beyond noise and negation, ultimately creating a new hyper-form of pop. Their labelmates on legendary California independent SST included Black Flag, Minutemen and Sonic Youth \u2013 iconoclasts all, but H\u00fcsker D\u00fc were reconfiguring rock\u2019s emotional DNA, throwing covers of The Beatles (Ticket To Ride), Byrds (Eight Miles High) and Donovan (Sunshine Superman) into their psychedelic melody furnace. <\/p>\n March 1986 saw the release of Candy Apple Grey, the band\u2019s debut for Warner Bros. For the first time, a band from hardcore\u2019s philosophical nexus had signed with a major label \u2013 a tricky move, but momentum seemed to be with them. H\u00fcsker D\u00fc were a revolution in the heart, one that would eventually lead to Nirvana.<\/p>\n So much for the future. Pinned to the rear wall of the Potterrow\u2019s upstairs room that night in Edinburgh, however, the main concern was how to restore a blown mind. H\u00fcsker D\u00fc began at volcanic force and then got fiercer. No gaps between songs, no respite from the energy triangulating between the three members: out front, Mould the guitarist, barking out sing-along alienation parables like Makes No Sense At All, a tensed-up man on the brink; bassist Norton his grinning accomplice, daring the crowd to jump higher, go faster; Hart, meanwhile, played drums like he was conducting the wind and sang like an angel with a weekend pass to the mortal world, telling us about The Girl Who Lives On Heaven Hill, or Books About UFOs, which he furnished with a whistling solo. Amid angst and rage, H\u00fcsker D\u00fc also dealt in levity \u2013 and their smile reflex was curated by Grant Hart.<\/p>\n Afterwards, I saw him sat on a stone bench under the student union\u2019s domed roof, chatting away like just another excited kid in the crowd. Noticing for the first time that he had been playing drums barefoot, I burst out laughing. Grant looked at me and laughed back. <\/p>\n In January 1988, after one final album, Warehouse: Songs And Stories \u2013 another double \u2013 H\u00fcsker D\u00fc broke up. The fallout was bitter, between Hart and Mould especially. Rumours swirled about Hart\u2019s heroin problem, about Mould\u2019s control-freakery. A dire portent had been the suicide in February 1987 of manager David Savoy shortly before a 50-date US tour in support of Warehouse. But the internal bonds had been fraying for some time. H\u00fcsker D\u00fc had their limits. Everything falls apart.<\/p>\n \u201cThat UK tour in March 1986 \u2013 that was still fun,\u201d says Greg Norton. \u201cWe were still at a relatively small level, even though we\u2019d signed for Warner Brothers. It was the summer of \u201987, when we\u2019ve got the big tour coach, that felt like everybody was in their own separate world. But really, Zen Arcade, New Day Rising and Flip Your Wig, that two-and-a-half-year period, those three records \u2013 such great music. It was a lot of fun. It may not necessarily have felt revolutionary at the time, but we were just making music that we felt was true to us. We weren\u2019t trying to be anything in particular, besides us. And that made it OK for everybody to be that.\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/GettyImages-96348857-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Paul Natkin Archive” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”image-gallery-caption” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font=”|300|||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-10px||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Don’t Want To Know If You Are Lonely: H\u00fcsker D\u00fc in 1987 in Chicago<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n A few hours after the news of Grant Hart\u2019s death from cancer emerged on the morning of September 14, I called Greg Norton. We had a pre-arranged interview, to discuss Savage Young D\u00fc, the Numero Group box set of H\u00fcsker D\u00fc\u2019s early years. Until that day, I was awaiting confirmation of similar appointments with Grant and Bob: the first official H\u00fcsker D\u00fc promo in almost 30 years.<\/p>\n \u201cWe all knew Grant was ill,\u201d said Greg. \u201cHe had been telling people he had maybe a year or less. I think we all hoped that meant a year or more. So the suddenness of this has taken the wind right out of me.\u201d<\/p>\n We agreed to postpone until the following week. In the meantime, Bob Mould posted a heartfelt tribute on Facebook, recalling the day in November 1978 when he and Grant met outside Cheapo, the record shop Hart worked in near Macalester College in Saint Paul, Minnesota. \u201cThe next nine years of my life was spent side-by-side with Grant,\u201d Bob wrote. \u201cWe made amazing music together. We (almost) always agreed how to present our collective work to the world. When we fought about the details, it was because we both cared. The band was our life. It was an amazing decade.\u201d <\/p>\n Mould went on to acknowledge the \u201csometimes difficult\u201d nature of their relationship following their band\u2019s split, expressed his appreciation for Hart\u2019s gifts as a visual artist, story teller and \u201ca frighteningly talented musician\u201d and offered condolences to family and friends. Two photographs accompanied the testimonial: one from early H\u00fcsker D\u00fc days, the other a recent shot, confirming reports that the pair had met shortly before Hart\u2019s passing. \u201cGodspeed Grant,\u201d Mould concluded. \u201cI miss you. Be with the angels.\u201d<\/p>\n Grant and Greg also met in a record shop. In March \u201978, Norton was taking a break from his shift at Melody Lane, whose owner also ran Cheapo, when he was assailed by a just-turned-17 Hart, who accused him of stealing his job. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m like, Who are you, what are you talking about?!\u201d Norton laughs. \u201cHe said, \u2018I\u2019ve been hanging out at Melody Lane and the manager said as soon as I turned 16 she\u2019d give me a job but they hired you.\u2019\u201d Norton sweet-talked his boss and Hart got in too. Soon the pair were taking trips across the Mississippi into neighbouring Minneapolis to see bands at Jay\u2019s Longhorn Bar, the epicentre of the Twin Cities\u2019 underground scene.<\/p>\n \u201cWe had a voracious appetite for punk rock,\u201d says Norton. \u201cHe brought his drumkit and his Farfisa organ over and set them up in the basement of my mom\u2019s house. I had my bass down there and we would just make noise. Grant even [called] us the Electro-Cutes \u2013 he made up a little business card. We never played any gigs and quite honestly I don\u2019t think we wrote any songs, but that\u2019s probably where the name H\u00fcsker D\u00fc ends up coming from: Grant and I sitting around one night, he\u2019s making up parody lyrics to Psycho Killer and when it gets to the chorus, I\u2019d shouted out, \u2018H\u00fcsker D\u00fc!\u2019 instead of \u2018Qu\u2019est-ce que c\u2019est!\u2019 We thought it was funny.\u201d <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pull-quote” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_text_color=”#111111″ header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pullquote-name” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” header_3_text_align=”center” header_3_text_color=”#111111″ header_3_font_size=”38px” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n It\u2019s possible that one of Hart and Norton\u2019s trips to the Longhorn would have coincided with a similar pilgrimage by 17-year-old Macalester freshman Bob Mould to see local punk stars the Suicide Commandos. But the members of H\u00fcsker D\u00fc wouldn\u2019t actually meet until November 18, when the newly acquainted Hart and Mould accompanied Norton to see the Ramones open for Foreigner at Saint Paul Arena. Two months later, the trio assembled in Mrs Norton\u2019s basement, after Hart\u2019s boss at Cheapo, Charlie Pine, tasked him with putting together a band to play a local bar. Mould had an Ibanez Flying V \u2013 in homage to the New York Dolls\u2019 Syl Sylvain \u2013 and although Pine\u2019s brokerage of the gig earned him membership rights, playing Hart\u2019s Farfisa, the others decided he didn\u2019t fit their punk ethos. Nor were they thrilled with his choice of band name, Buddy & The Returnables \u2013 with Pine as \u2018Buddy\u2019, it meant the others were \u2018returnable\u2019. Norton suggested they call themselves \u2018H\u00fcsker D\u00fc\u2019 instead. <\/p>\n \u201cIt means \u2018do you remember?\u2019, as in, \u2018Do you remember when rock\u2019n\u2019roll was good?\u2019 We liked it because it was a foreign phrase, you couldn\u2019t pigeonhole the band based on the name. For our very first gig, Grant actually made a flyer that said: \u2018First time in the US! H\u00fcsker D\u00fc!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n Charlie Pine lasted just three gigs of punk covers before the true H\u00fcsker D\u00fc line-up debuted at the Longhorn Bar on May 13, 1979. Already things were moving fast: in just a few weeks they had built a set of originals. <\/p>\n \u201cA lot of the early days of H\u00fcsker D\u00fc was experimentation through emulation,\u201d Mould recalled in 2016. \u201cThose things ranged from powerpop to straight-up copies of Joy Division, The Cure, stuff like that. Three people trying to find a common identity.\u201d<\/p>\n Their quest was driven by a zealous work ethic. Building a practice space in the basement of Norton\u2019s latest record shop, Northern Lights, the band rehearsed for up to four hours every night. \u201cWe all quickly became friends,\u201d says Norton. \u201cThat\u2019s the thing about that early era of H\u00fcsker D\u00fc \u2013 the three of us hanging out and writing music like crazy. The songs were just pouring out of Bob. And Grant as well. One of the very first songs is called Sex Dolls. Because it sounded like a cross between the Sex Pistols and the New York Dolls. We were definitely also influenced by the Ramones and the Buzzcocks, and bands like The Jam and Joy Division as well.\u201d<\/p>\n Had Ian Curtis not committed suicide on the eve of a US tour in 1980, H\u00fcsker D\u00fc would have been the support act for Joy Division\u2019s Minneapolis show on May 29. That year they became de facto resident band at the downtown Minneapolis 7th Street Entry club, opening for the Ramones and Mission Of Burma, honing their set, ruthlessly discarding older material as a harder, faster template emerged, dictated by the need to make an impression in limited time. Through early studio sessions and live recordings, Savage Young D\u00fc documents the journey to hardcore\u2019s outer extremities, which ultimately coalesced during the summer of 1981\u2019s so-called Children\u2019s Crusade, a demented eight-week haul through Canada, down the West Coast from Seattle to San Francisco, where they lived with Dead Kennedys\u2019 Jello Biafra for a month, then back to the Midwest for an August 15 homecoming at the 7th Street Entry. That night\u2019s first, super-fast set was taped and became Land Speed Record, the debut H\u00fcsker D\u00fc album, released on Minutemen bassist Mike Watt\u2019s New Alliance label in January 1982.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve always liked Bob\u2019s explanation of Land Speed Record,\u201d says Norton. \u201c\u2018We covered a lot of land, we took a lot of speed and then we cut a record.\u2019 It was all blazing fast for a while. It\u2019s like we had to work through that in order for the melody and the harmony to work their way back in.\u201d<\/p>\n Besides playing the music, each member fulfilled distinct auxiliary roles: Hart created artwork for record sleeves and posters; Mould booked tours and ran the office; Norton did most of the driving. Philosophically, they began to question hardcore\u2019s political rulebook. \u201cOne of the things H\u00fcsker D\u00fc always kept in mind was the personal landscape,\u201d Mould told MOJO in 2015. \u201cAs opposed to edicts like the anarchist bands of the late \u201970s. We weren\u2019t really into that, especially by 1983\/84 when we started thinking about Zen Arcade and New Day Rising and Flip Your Wig.\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/7\/2024\/06\/GettyImages-76056658-scaled.jpg” title_text=”Photo of Husker Du” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n It was in the area of songwriting that H\u00fcsker D\u00fc sealed their immortality but also their fate. Earlier records had been collaborative, with Norton co-writing and occasionally singing, yet by 1983\u2019s SST debut Metal Circus there was a clear demarcation between Grant Hart and Bob Mould compositions. Initially, at least, the process was mutually beneficial.<\/p>\n \u201cEverything was going our way,\u201d said Mould. \u201cWe had a real moment there with those three records. Incredible creativity. The one that has the best memories for me is Flip Your Wig, because the three of us, and most importantly me and Grant, were working side by side for the exact same cause. That was the band at full throttle and in full control. The thing nobody saw coming was getting in with Warners. Everything started getting a little shaky. One of the biggest factors was all the acclaim we were getting from the press. It\u2019s like, \u2018Here\u2019s your crown\u2026\u2019 On Candy Apple Grey, Grant had his own song, I had my own song. It put little cracks in things.\u201d<\/p>\n Long since excluded from the songwriting process, Norton watched as his friends\u2019 competitive rivalry became toxic. By taking on the mundane administrative duties the band had previously performed for themselves \u2013 as Norton puts it, \u201cthe things that really helped make us H\u00fcsker D\u00fc\u201d \u2013 Warner Bros inadvertently hastened their new investment\u2019s demise. H\u00fcsker D\u00fc wouldn\u2019t be the last great American rock band to become alienated from each other and their art on a major label, but they were the first. <\/p>\n \u201cYou see three people moving away from the only thing they really have in common,\u201d said Mould. \u201cI quit drinking and started withdrawing. Greg got married and moved out to the country. And Grant found a new set of friends.\u201d<\/p>\n Hart\u2019s heroin use reached crisis point on a Midwest tour in December 1987, and became widely blamed for the band\u2019s split. Norton, however, takes a broader view.<\/p>\n \u201cGrant was having a lot of distractions,\u201d he says. \u201cBut that could have been dealt with. Really, it\u2019s the clash of personalities between the songwriters. I think heroin is an excuse. Grant, of course, claims that he quit. Technically, Bob was the one who removed himself from the contract. In reality, I was the only one that had any interest in trying to keep the band together. Almost two years after H\u00fcsker D\u00fc split up, I met Grant Hart at the bar of the Columbia Hotel in central London, on the eve of his debut solo album Intolerance. Pointing to a bottle of Grant\u2019s whisky, he winked: \u201cThat\u2019s something Bob doesn\u2019t have. You don\u2019t see too many bottles of Bob\u2019s!\u201d<\/p>\n Interviews with Hart were platforms for his wicked humour and intellectual discourse. In late \u201989, on the subject of his former band, he was pragmatic yet regretful. \u201cH\u00fcsker D\u00fc was a band with two leaders and both of us wanted to lead in the other direction. Maybe after nine years getting sick of the little compromises, we fell out with each other. There\u2019s still love there, but it\u2019s not the kind of love you can bear.\u201d <\/p>\n The last time we spoke, in 2013, he indicated that relations with Bob were on an upswing \u2013 \u201crespectful, if not cordial\u201d. They were working together to \u201cundo the terrible knot\u201d of H\u00fcsker D\u00fc\u2019s catalogue, neglected for years amid a legal impasse between the band and SST. Not long before Hart passed away, he and Mould had one final meeting. \u201cFrom what I understand, it was a very nice get-together,\u201d says Norton. \u201cThey had a good time chatting.\u201d<\/p>\n Greg Norton saw his old friend for the last time in July. Early that month, Babes In Toyland\u2019s Lori Barbero organised a surprise Minneapolis tribute to Hart, where Norton\u2019s current band Porcupine played a set of Hart covers and Hart himself performed solo versions of some of his most beloved songs.<\/p>\n \u201cGrant didn\u2019t look good, but he was in great spirits,\u201d says Norton. \u201cThen at the end of July, Grant got married to Brigid McGough and they had a party at a fancy hotel in downtown Saint Paul. It was a lot of fun. The next afternoon there was a picnic. As I was leaving, Grant said, \u2018Hey, gimme a call, let\u2019s grab a coffee in the next few weeks.\u2019 It\u2019s one of those things \u2013 I was meaning to get around to contacting him\u2026 I\u2019m kicking myself now, because I\u2019ve missed that opportunity to have one more conversation with Grant. Because at the tribute show and that weekend, it was hanging out with Grant, my old friend. Not fighting over past business bullshit. He was my friend.\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pull-quote” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_text_color=”#111111″ header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text module_class=”pullquote-name” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” header_2_text_align=”center” header_2_font_size=”46px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” header_3_text_align=”center” header_3_text_color=”#111111″ header_3_font_size=”38px” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_text module_class=”text-with-dropcap” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Despite their legend burgeoning over the years, H\u00fcsker D\u00fc resisted entreaties to reform. It was one subject Hart and Mould always agreed on. \u201cEven though the amount of money would be irresistible, both of us have resisted making a lot of money before,\u201d Hart said in 2013. \u201cMoney can buy everything but taste. I think I\u2019ll continue to hate the rich. Somebody\u2019s got to.\u201d Norton, who gave up playing music and became a chef, for a period running his own restaurant in Red Wing, a small town in south-east Minnesota, has a different perspective. <\/p>\n \u201cA reunion is something that I knew in my heart would never happen. To be honest, an opportunity to play one more time with Bob and Grant, even for just one show, would have been fantastic. Of course I would have done it. Y\u2019know, it\u2019s funny. When the band broke up it was like nobody gave a shit. \u2018Whatever, let\u2019s move on to the next big thing.\u2019 The band is way more popular today than when we broke up. Meeting Dave Grohl and having him just flat-out tell you: \u2018It\u2019s simple: no H\u00fcsker D\u00fc, no Foo Fighters.\u2019 Wow. That\u2019s pretty awesome. The list of people who cite H\u00fcsker D\u00fc as a major influence, I\u2019m honoured by it. The Numero box set looks incredible, sounds fantastic,\u201d Greg adds, \u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s been this much anticipation for a H\u00fcsker D\u00fc release ever.\u201d<\/p>\n Grant Hart always made a point of championing artistic purity over commercial ambition. He mistrusted managers, disdained attorneys, was sniffy about anyone comfortable around the business of music. \u201cI\u2019ve no need for those people,\u201d he said. \u201cI would rather maximise the reality without them, rather than live under their idea of what profitability is.\u201d So although his death, at just 56, is deeply sad, its proximity to the release of a long-awaited H\u00fcsker D\u00fc \u2028archive is not without a hint of mischief \u2013 a quintessential Grant Hart quality.<\/p>\n \u201cHe had a naughty sense of humour, I agree,\u201d says Norton. \u201cI remember when Grant met my mom, he was 17, and he always called her \u2018Mrs Norton\u2019. One day, he\u2019s like, \u2018Hi, Dottie!\u2019 My mom is like, \u2018Dottie?! You always call me Mrs Norton!\u2019 He goes, \u2018Ah well, I\u2019m 18 now, I\u2019m an adult, so now I can call you Dottie!\u2019\u201d <\/p>\n Somewhere way up beyond the clouds, a barefoot angel is whistling a happy tune.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n This article originally appeared in issue 289 of MOJO<\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider color=”#111111″ module_class=”custom-divider” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||0px||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_text module_class=”credit-names” _builder_version=”4.20.4″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”14px” text_orientation=”center” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Words: <\/strong>Keith Cameron Images:\u00a0<\/strong>Getty<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" H\u00fcsker D\u00fc lit a fire in all-comers before drugs, jealousy and major labels joined to topple them<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":1512,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1544","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mojo-presents"],"acf":[],"modified_by":"kschwarz","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1544","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1544"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1544\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1569,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1544\/revisions\/1569"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1512"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1544"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1544"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojo\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1544"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}\u201cIt was all blazing fast for a while. We had to work through that for the melody to work its way back in.\u201d<\/h2>\n
Greg Norton<\/h3>\n
\n\u2028Towards the end, my role was to stay out of it, to not pick a side. I didn\u2019t want to pick a side. Grant always considered me on his side because, \u2018Well obviously you\u2019re against Bob, because he\u2019s Bob\u2026\u2019 And I don\u2019t think Bob gave a shit one way or another. It was a difficult situation to be in.\u201d<\/p>\n\u00a0\u201cH\u00fcsker D\u00fc was a band with two leaders and both of us wanted to lead in the other direction.\u201d<\/h2>\n
Grant Hart<\/h3>\n